


Expansion of Hate

by goldarrow



Series: Silent!Stephen [6]
Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 16:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17564363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldarrow/pseuds/goldarrow
Summary: Stephen runs into trouble on a shout.





	Expansion of Hate

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: Silent!Stephen 'verse.

 

Expansion of Hate

 

7:25 AM

Stephen lay stiffly, head aching, arms trapped beneath him and mouth too dry to whistle for help, wondering vaguely what had happened to dump him on the roof of a building. He was wedged against the low gutter, head slightly higher than his feet, and he could feel wetness dribbling down his arm from a sharp burning pain in his right shoulder.

 

Peering blearily around, he tried to make sense of his current predicament. Was that a Cathedral spire soaring above him? And a long way down to the ground? Where the sodding hell was he?

  
He squeezed his eyes shut and wracked his brain for any possible explanation. After a few minutes of trying to fish thoughts out of a mind that felt like treacle coated with motor oil, he dredged up the memories. Their morning had started early. Very early:

 

 

4:30 AM

 

When they got a chance for it, their early morning wake up sex was always a slow, gentle, easy dance. Sighing silently into Ryan's mouth as the soldier's calloused hand slid up and down their joined cocks, Stephen let the world drift away. As the grip tightened and the speed increased, he breathed deeper, pressed his mouth to Ryan's neck and bit down gently, his own grasp on Ryan's shoulders tightening, hips moving unconsciously in concert with his lover’s. The roughness of the palm wrapping him contrasting with the smoothness of his partner's shaft pressed against his own sent him so much deeper into a lust-filled haze that his orgasm came as a complete surprise to him. The shivering, electric wave started at the base of his spine and washed outward to send a shudder through his entire body, leaving him limp and gulping for air, lying in a boneless heap on the sheet.

 

Their two mobiles chose that moment to sound off in concert, jerking Stephen into a sitting position before he had fully came back to earth. Gasping a bit with the shock, he turned to see Ryan lying there with a smile on his face. Growling silently, aftershocks still coursing through his body, Stephen snatched his mobile from the table beside him and tapped the speaker three times.

 

The automated voice of Connor's prototype anomaly notification program came through clearly. “Anomaly detected, location message sent.”

 

Stephen tapped twice in acknowledgement and closed the call, turning to see that Ryan was already reading his text message.

 

“Bloody hell,” the soldier said. “Sodding Salisbury Cathedral?”

 

Eyes wide, Stephen checked his own message. It clearly said the same thing. They stared at each other for a moment, then scrambled for a flannel and their clothes, all thoughts of sex banished from their minds. It was going to take them well over an hour to get to Salisbury, and sunrise was due at 7:30. That wouldn't give them much time to clean up if creatures came through.

 

Two minutes later, dressed and moderately clean, Stephen caught the keys to the truck Ryan tossed him. This early in the morning, they would have to rely on the night-time skeleton crew to bring arms and protective gear for the entire team, and Stephen knew that Ryan always double-checked the details, especially now, with Lyle off on a caving rescue with Ralph Lester.

 

Stephen accelerated quickly, giving only a glancing acknowledgment to the speed limit as he passed through it. This location was simply too high-profile to take any chances with. They had to get there soonest and handle any creatures before the local dog-walkers and Cathedral personnel ended up as breakfast.

 

 

5:45 AM

 

The five vehicles all arrived at about the same time, pulling up in a group just outside the locked car park.

 

Wasting no time, Ryan shone a torch on the Cathedral Close plans Stephen spread on the bonnet of their truck before gesturing for everyone to come in close. Stephen stayed tight beside him so he could use the light of the torch to sign if he needed to.

 

“Okay,” Ryan said quietly. “Sunrise is about 7:30. We need to be smart and quick about this. Cutter, you and Connor are with me, inside. Ditzy, Finn, you guard. Stephen, you and Abby along with Blade and Kermit, check the grounds, see if there are any tracks heading out.”

 

They nodded, breaking up to collect their equipment, then gathering again as Connor checked his portable ADD and waved them back over. “Looks like the anomaly is inside the cloisters,” he said softly.

 

“Thank God for that,” Ryan replied with a slight grin. “At least we don’t have to pick the lock on the main doors.”

 

Cutter grunted. “They have a night watchman; he should have access to anywhere we need to go.”

 

“True,” Ryan nodded. “But we’ll need a cover story for that.” He motioned for the two teams to head out and turned to brief Jenny, who had just arrived in her own car.

 

Stephen grinned at Abby’s grumble about Jenny’s ability to always show up looking so smart, no matter what time of day or night they were called out. _Doesn’t matter_ , he signed. _Some women don’t need makeup or fancy clothes to look great._

 

Abby stopped and stared at him, before blushing slightly and muttering, “Thanks.”

 

 _You’re welcome,_ he replied, turning back to look towards the Cathedral. _It’s a pity they turn the outdoor lights off at closing._

 

Abby nodded. “Yeah, we could use them right now.” She stopped suddenly. “Um, Stephen, do you see something on the cloister roof over there?”

 

Stephen narrowed his eyes and looked in the direction she was pointing. _Get Cutter and Connor,_ he signed, walking slowly and silently toward the building. This was not good. Not good at all.

 

Five minutes later, they were gathered at the main visitor’s entrance, waiting for the night watchman to arrive with his keys.

 

“What do you think, Connor?” Ryan asked. “What are they?”

 

Connor cleared his throat. “Um, looks like Volaticotherium antiquum.”

 

Stephen hid his grin at Ryan’s sigh, which was echoed by the rest of the military team.

 

“More useful information,” the captain requested. “I’m not going to be calling for it like it’s a bloody dog.”

 

Connor blinked, clearly not understanding why they wouldn’t want to know exactly what it was. “Um, okay then. According to the database, it’s a small flying squirrel-like creature from the late Jurassic; fossils of it have been found in China.”

 

Stephen cocked his head. _Seriously? Jurassic?_

 

Chuckling, Connor nodded. “Yep. 130 million to 164 million years old. Definitely Jurassic.”

 

“Bloody hell,” Finn moaned. “We’re not going to have raptors and a T. rex running around, are we?”

 

Cutter snorted. “Those are Cretaceous. Bloody movies.”

 

Connor agreed. “Yeah, the worst we’d get is an Allosaurus, but those things on the roof aren’t anywhere near big enough to eat us.”

 

Stephen swung his head around to stare at Connor so fast he almost got giddy. Had their resident genius geek actually made a joke? When Connor grinned back at him, Stephen gave him a thumbs up before asking, _So, how do we catch them? They’re small, quick, and they can fly._

 

Abby grinned. “And now you know why I added nets to the kits. I’ll get them.” She took off at a run for the vehicles, leaving the rest to stare at each other.

 

 

6:45 AM

 

It was times like this that Stephen wished heartily that he could verbalise his thoughts. The ones bouncing around in his head right now would be much better outside his brain, since every one of them was spelled out in vitriol and acid. Leaning over with his hands braced on his knees, panting in exhaustion, he closed his eyes for a moment.

 

Those little rodents were not only small, quick, and could fly, they also learned very quickly. The team had headed into the cloisters while Jenny fielded the watchman’s questions with great aplomb and inventiveness, and they had managed to catch at least a dozen of the Volas, as Finn dubbed them, within the first few minutes. After that, every capture had turned into an exercise in frustration. Dodging, leaping, gliding, the Volas slid into cracks in the bark of the huge plane trees that shouldn’t have held a knife blade let alone a dancing creature the size of a squirrel, before they bounced out somewhere else and took off again.

 

“Hold on!” Cutter called. “Let them calm down.”

 

Stephen opened his eyes and stared at the ground until his breathing evened out, then dropped flat onto his back on the lush grass. With his eyes closed again, he lay there until he felt a boot touch his hip. Squinting up at Ryan, he grinned crookedly. _Sodding tired,_ he signed.

 

Ryan sighed. “Yeah, me too.” He plopped onto the grass beside Stephen. “Any ideas?”

 

Stephen bit his lip. _Yeah, maybe. Right now we’re just scaring them away from the anomaly._ Staring over at the glittering shards suspended malevolently in the far corner, he sat up slowly and waved Cutter and Abby over. _Maybe we should stop trying to catch them, and just try to herd them back._

 

Abby made a sound that could only be translated as ‘huh’, before nodding her head thoughtfully. “Maybe.”

 

Cutter watched the little creatures watching them, and Stephen had to hold his breath to regain control as he caught the duplicate expressions of disgust on both human and rodent countenances.

 

“Yeah, okay,” Cutter said. “We’ll need to split up a little, though. I’m sure some of them have already got out of the cloisters. We’ll have to start farther out, and chivvy them this direction.” Rubbing his neck, he added ruefully, “We’re bloody lucky they haven’t made it into the spire.”

 

 _Are we sure about that?_ Stephen asked doubtfully. _They’re awfully small._

 

Cutter nodded. “Yeah, that’s the first thing we checked. All entries to the spire are closed up, and it doesn’t look like they’ve been able to rise high enough to get in through the bell tower.”

 

Stephen looked to Ryan, who grimaced. “We can hope. Right. I’ll have the boys spread out across the grounds, while your team starts inside. Stephen?”

 

Remembering what he’d seen when they arrived, Stephen signed, _I’m going to check out the repair scaffolding on the north side, by the transept. There’s lots of places for them to hang out in that cat’s cradle. I’ll take a net, just in case._ He stood up, stretched mightily, and headed for the door, hearing Ryan’s raised voice behind him.

 

“Okay, everyone. Slight change of plans. . .”

 

 

7:10 AM

 

Stephen stared at the little Vola as it shrank back. He’d found five of the speedy little buggers clambering around in the scaffolding, and he’d managed to capture four of them, but this last one was giving him the slip every time he got close.

 

Taking a deep breath, he decided it might be better to simply force it out of the scaffolding, and the best way to do that would be from above. Bracing himself on the crosspiece, he tried to work out the quickest and safest route to the top. Shuddering at how far from the ground he was going to be, he started climbing. Once he was perched securely on the top level, he looked down for just a second. Fuck, he had to be over 30 metres up. After a few more breathing exercises to try and slow his heart rate just a bit, he reckoned he had enough control of himself to start back down. But first, of course, he had to find the Vola again. The little bugger had disappeared the moment he started climbing.

 

 

7:15 AM

 

He was leaning out to peer over the edge of the scaffolding, bracing himself on the closest upright, when something smacked hard against the lead of the roof and sent slivers of metal spraying into his arm. Stephen jerked back with a gasp, staring frantically around to try to find out what it was. The whip-crack of sound in the distance caught his attention with a jerk. Rifle, his mind obligingly supplied. Long-range, it added helpfully. Bloody well hide, was the third frenzied thought rushing right up behind the first two and blanketing his entire span of concentration.

 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t easy to find a safe place when he wasn’t sure where the shots were coming from. He pulled himself onto the edge of the roof and stood behind the spirelet that rose at the corner, hoping it was at the right angle to protect him. It wasn’t, as he found to his detriment a second later when a burning pain slammed into his right shoulder, followed by another whip-crack and the shouts of the Special Forces men on the ground.

 

He made a flailing grab for the spirelet beside him, missed it completely, and with his last semiconscious impulse, he managed to twist just enough to drop into the small v-shaped gutter between the steeply plunging roof and the low wall at the edge. His only other alternative had been to plunge straight down the front of the transept to the ground far below.

 

 

7:15 AM

 

“What the fuck?” Ryan spun around quickly, eyes searching for the origin of the shots. “Blade, Ditzy, Finn, Kermit, spread out. Shots fired, north side.”

 

Cutter ran around the corner, but slammed on brakes when Ryan held his hand up.

 

“Stay back, Professor,” Ryan ordered. “And the rest of you, too,” he added as the other team members gathered behind him. Ryan hesitated for a second before he spoke into his mic. “Stephen, where are you?”

 

There was only silence, no scrape, no tap, and Ryan paled. “Stephen, respond.” Nothing. “Fuck! Ditzy, break off. Find Stephen. He should be on the north side scaffolding.”

 

“On it.” The medic’s voice came through calmly.

 

Ryan breathed deeply, then turned to the scientific members of the team. “Professor, please stay here. We’ll take care of this.”

 

“Find him,” Cutter said quietly, not specifying whether he was talking about the shooter or Stephen. “We’ll watch the anomaly.” Cutter strode back into the cloisters with Abby and Connor following like ducklings after a drake.

 

Ryan headed for the north transept at a dead run as a third shot sounded. “Status.”

 

“Shots coming from Sarum College,” Blade reported. “I’m heading over there now.”

 

“Kermit, back up Blade,” Ryan ordered. “I’m on the way.” Shit, they needed to take care of this quickly. He could see that a few people were awake and out taking their morning walks or heading for work, and they were looking very nervous as they stared at the Special Forces team running across the Cathedral grounds in the low light of almost-dawn. Jenny was not going to be pleased.

 

“Abort,” Blade said quietly. “Guy’s gone, but he left his rifle behind. I have it now, and the Dean is here. He says they have security cameras in the car park. He’s heading out to get the tapes right now.”

 

Ryan could hear the slight amusement in the soldier’s voice as Blade continued, “Guy’s ex-RAF. He’s on the page with us, thinking terrorists, so no extra worries for Jenny.”

 

“Good work,” Ryan said. “Ditzy? Status on Stephen?”

 

The medic came back with a negative. “Can’t see him anywhere. He’s not on the scaffolding.”

 

Ryan was about to order him to start calling, but before he could get the words out, he heard Ditzy start yelling Stephen’s name. There was no reply: no whistle, no tapping, no waving, no sign of him at all.

 

 

7:27 AM

 

Stephen could hear them calling him. The sound was distant, though, hardly making any impression on him. He was more fuzzily interested in why he couldn’t move. It took a couple of minutes for him to realise that he’d fallen slightly sideways and his left arm was trapped underneath him. His right arm was free, but the slightest movement of it sent a stabbing pain from his shoulder straight into his head, making him dizzy. He tried wriggling higher on the roof in the hopes that they’d be able to see him, but that was out, too. Another wave of darkness washed behind his eyes the moment he made the first hitch. He relaxed and closed his eyes. He couldn’t move. It was up to them to find him. Hopefully before he bled to death. His struggles had expanded the bleeding from a dribble to a slow but steady stream.

 

 

7:30 AM

 

Stephen heard a clinking noise. He opened his eyes and watched the top of the scaffolding vibrate as someone climbed it. That was good. He could hear the soft and surprisingly reverent-sounding cursing as the person vented his unhappiness at having to get that far from the ground. Stephen approved of that too. He hadn’t liked the climb, either.

 

When Ditzy’s slightly pale face loomed over the low wall and he breathed out a sigh, Stephen managed to dredge up a smile for him. It was a weak one, rather pathetic, really, but it was the thought that counted, right?

 

“Oh, Jesus, Stephen,” Ditzy whispered after one quick but comprehensive glance along his body. “Can you move?”

 

Stephen shook his head.

 

“Okay. Be right back.” Ditzy disappeared, and Stephen could hear him calling for assistance.

 

It didn’t take long for them to get him down, with the surprising but not unappreciated assistance of Sarum College’s Dean, who provided a stretcher and medical supplies and waved off their attempts at thanks. Stephen even pulled off a slightly goofy grin for him as the man turned away, informing them that all he required was the return of his stretcher as soon as possible.

 

Five minutes later, the ambulance arrived, Stephen was loaded in, finally giving in to unconsciousness, and the Dean had his stretcher back.

 

 

10:30 AM

 

Ryan swallowed the last dregs of his cup of hospital coffee with a shudder. That stuff was worse than the coffee at Credenhill. Hearing voices coming down the corridor, he stood up quickly, facing the door to the operating theatres, feeling the rest of the team ranging themselves behind him.

 

“Captain, um, Ryan?” The surgeon glanced down at the clipboard he was carrying.

 

“Yes. How’s Stephen?” Ryan asked calmly. The surgeon didn’t look too unhappy, so the soldier allowed himself to hope.

 

“I’m Mr. Francis. Your partner is doing as well as can be expected,” the surgeon replied. “The bullet was a through-and-through, so we didn’t have to dig around, but it did do some damage all on its own. He was damned lucky. It went through at an angle,  passing between the lung and the brachial plexus; it missed the nerves by about a half a millimetre. It punched through the pectoralis in the front, and clipped the edge of the scapula in the back; we had to do a lot of cleanup on the teres major and the subscapularis. He’s going to need a lot of physio.” Francis sighed. “That area is so very complicated.”

 

“When can he be transferred to our local hospital?” Ryan asked, not too worried about details right then. He grinned at the surgeon’s slightly offended look. “Not that we don’t trust you, but it’ll be much more convenient for us.”

 

“Ah,” Francis replied, actually looking around and blinking, as if noticing all of the uniforms for the first time. “I see.” His brow wrinkled for a moment. “He’s in recovery right now, and he should be monitored closely for the rest of the day, and tonight. You can transfer him in the morning, barring any complications. I’ll make my rounds about eight in the morning, and I’ll authorise release to another medical facility after I check him.”

 

“Sounds good,” Ryan said. “Can I see him now?”

 

Francis shook his head. “Not yet. Give us about an hour to get him set up in a room. You can wait down the hall.” He reached out to shake Ryan’s hand. “Your partner is lucky in his friends, also,” he said, looking at the seven other people crowded around. “I’ll send someone to take you to the waiting area.”

 

Ryan sighed as the surgeon left the room. “Damn,” he muttered, as he heard Ditzy explaining to Cutter and Connor exactly what the damage meant for Stephen’s near future. Abby was already biting her lip, and before Ryan knew what was happening, he had an armful of platinum-haired zoologist. He allowed himself to bask in her support for a moment, then gave her a little squeeze and released her. “Thanks, Abby,” he whispered. “I needed that.”

 

She grinned at him, “Yeah, me, too.”

 

 

11:45 AM

 

“Hey,” Ryan whispered as Stephen’s eyes opened blearily and he blinked like a kitten in sunlight.

 

Stephen smiled back and tried to sign, but winced instead and simply lay back looking pathetic.

 

Ryan held onto his left hand. “Don’t try to talk right now. You’ve got a big hole in your shoulder, and I’d rather you let it settle for a while.”

 

Stephen nodded, grimacing, then smiled and mouthed, “Love you.”

 

Grinning in relief, Ryan leaned over and kissed him softly. “Yeah, love you, too, blue-eyes.”

 

At Stephen’s querying glance down at his bandages, Ryan updated him on the status. “You’re fucked for a while. Lots of physio on the shoulder, but it should heal okay.”

 

Stephen scowled, but nodded.

 

“We did finally get all of the little bastards back home, we think. The anomaly closed about an hour after you got shot.”

 

“Who?” Stephen asked silently.

 

“We haven’t the foggiest,” Ryan confessed. “Haven’t taken the time to look at the security tape.”

 

Off Stephen’s querying look, Ryan explained what had happened while he was, first, stuck on the roof of the Cathedral, and second, unconscious. By the time Ryan finished, Stephen was looking frustrated.

 

“Relax for now,” Ryan urged. “Anything you need to say can wait until tomorrow. Unless you actually saw the shooter?”

 

Stephen shook his head, now projecting an extreme case of disgruntlement.

 

Ryan grinned at him. “Rest. Do you want some painkillers?”

 

Stephen shook his head again and glanced up at the IV bag.

 

“Ah, already got you on them?”

 

Nodding, Stephen closed his eyes, but he didn’t let go of Ryan’s hand, holding it hard. The soldier settled in for a long wait. He wasn’t about to leave until Stephen was ready; and from the looks of it, he wouldn’t be ready for at least a couple of hours.

 

 

Next Day

1:00 PM

 

“Right,” Ditzy reported to Ryan, back at the ARC medical centre. “He’s settled in, doing fine, sound asleep.” He glanced over his shoulder, and moved closer, lowering his voice. “There’s something you need to see.”

 

Eyebrows rising, Ryan followed him down the hall and into the computer lab. Connor was sitting at the electronics bank, eyes wide and hands shaking the slightest little bit.

 

Ditzy leaned against the counter. “We thought the shooter had to be Helen, or one of her Cleaner clones. That was the only explanation we had for someone trying to kill Stephen.” When Ryan opened his mouth to take exception to the phrasing, Ditzy held up his hand and continued, “Uh-uh. He was definitely after Stephen. He shot only at Stephen, and he didn’t try to hit anyone else as they moved around. And when the team headed for him, he just left. He didn’t shoot at them. So, ergo, Stephen was the target.”

 

Ryan thought about it, lips thinned as he fought his visceral anger at anyone trying to hurt his lover, and then finally sighed in agreement. “Okay. So. You said ‘thought it was Helen’. Did the tape show something different?” Christ, the last thing they needed was someone new and unknown targeting Stephen. He already had Helen Cutter and her Cleaners after him. That was enough enemies for any one man for any one lifetime.

 

“Yeah,” Ditzy replied heavily. “The tape showed something different.” He turned to Connor and nodded as Ryan frowned at the two of them.

 

Connor gulped. “We managed to clean up the video from the tape,” he said jerkily. “This is what it showed.” Turning to the computer, he punched the mouse button a little too hard.

 

Still frowning, Ryan concentrated on the screen. A few minutes of stillness washed past in fast forward, then the video slowed as a man moved into frame. The film showed his back as he walked across the car park to stand beside a Mini. He reached into the bag he was carrying and pulled out a rifle. He attached a scope and a tripod, and braced the rifle on the roof of the little car. Ryan watched, hands fisted, as the man shot three times, then stood for a moment, seemingly undecided about something. The man left the rifle on the car, picked up his bag and turned to walk away, and his face came into full view of the camera for the first time.

 

His face. Ryan’s face. Tom Ryan had shot Stephen Hart.

 

“Holy fuck,” Ryan whispered, staring at the screen.

 

“Yeah,” Ditzy replied. “Now what do we do, boss?”

 

Ryan shuddered. “I have no sodding idea.” He whipped his head up and stared wide-eyed at Ditzy. “But we’d better figure it out, quick. Stephen’s in hospital, and if there’s another me out there who wants him dead, he’s in very great danger.”

 

End

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 2: Please don’t come after me with pitchforks. . . ‘Tis the start of a new arc. . .


End file.
